For We Followed the Beaten Path to Justice
by YoungMarie
Summary: "You can't save them all." Massie Block knows this, and yet when she meets the daughter of Derrick Harrington, she knows she has to save her. Justice Needed, Justice Found, revised, rewritten, and revamped. Strong T for sexual subject matter.
1. Memories of a Broken Soul

**A/N: Whew, I'm so nervous! _Justice_ was a hit and I really hope this new version goes down well. It will be pretty much the same, just with more fleshed-out character backgrounds. This first chapter will show you what I mean. Some parts are much darker than the original, and I will try and bring a little more attention to certain aspects of the storyline.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Clique, but I own this plot.**

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><p>If you met Massie Block on the street, you probably wouldn't guess that she was known as a prodigy in the world of psychology. You probably wouldn't guess that the impatient woman you were meeting was indeed an expert in <em>child<em> psychology.

You wouldn't know the things she keeps pushed to the back of her mind, mistakes she made that failed others, some that weren't in her realm of control.

You would, in fact, assume she worked for her father, or in fashion, or something as equally well-paying and glamorous. You would assume she was well-known for those reasons, and no more.

If you met Massie Block on the street, you wouldn't know she was the type of woman that defense attorneys feared, that police loved, that doctors had on their contact lists. You wouldn't know that she had ruthlessly taken down pedophiles, that she prepared children to testify at trial, or that she loved her job.

She knew what she wanted to do the day she graduated with her psychology degree. Her friend, lawyer Chris Abeley, a few years her senior, had arrived at her party. Arrived tired, worn down, and depressed. She can remember that his suit was wrinkled, his eyes were red, his hair, which was no longer the way it was in high school, but now gelled and styled, was in disarray.

"What's wrong?" At this point in her life, Massie hadn't yet encountered the horrible things she would have to face later due to her occupation. She was still new, and didn't really know the evils that surrounded her. Chris, however, did.

"Shitty day in court." He was nursing a beer. She frowned. He looked way too depressed for that to be the only reason. And because she didn't feel like dancing or getting completely wasted, she sat next to him and grabbed a beer of her own to sip.

"How so? Someone get acquitted or something?" Chris was a prosecutor, for what she didn't really know. All she knew was that acquitted wasn't a good thing for him.

Chris shook his head. "Didn't even go to trial. The witness failed at the competency hearing."

She was intrigued. "Didn't go to trial? Who was the witness? What is a competency hearing?"

Chris had smiled at her eager curiosity. "The only witness, therefore our only real proof, had to have a hearing to be deemed fit to testify at trial. And the defense attorney who got to ask the questions fired them at her too fast. Made her nervous. She cried." Chris rubbed his eyes tiredly. "She's seven. And because nothing came to trial, her father still has partial custody. Which means she needs to live with him. Even though five months ago she told her mom that he touches her in her 'bad places'."

Massie reeled back from the shock. How was this even right? How was it okay? Did the legal system really work that way? She was appalled. And yet, like those murder shows on TV, she needed to know more.

Chris smiled sadly at her face. "I know. It sucks."

Massie couldn't believe it. "Don't the kids get help? With testifying?"

Chris pursed his lips. "That's my job, and whoever we call to talk to the kid."

Massie was thoughtful. Like usual, the world of law was way more complex than she cared to observe. "Who do you call?"

"A child psychologist, who specializes in trauma cases. I call them in to give the kid a psychological evaluation, and to help get the kid ready for trial, which is awful. Or sometimes, when a parent wants to take something to court, I have to bring someone in just to get the kid to admit something even happened." Chris shook his head. "If she didn't have to live with her dad, it would almost be better that she didn't have to withstand trial. Unfortunately, that's the only way you get them away from these sick bastards." With a tip of his head he finished off his beer and pulled another one from the cooler at his feet. "His own _daughter_."

Massie was too curious to just let the conversation go at this point. Something was nagging at her. Sure, this was her graduation party, and all her friends were drinking, dancing, having a great time, but she couldn't leave Chris now. He was nice enough to come, even though he was obviously depressed, and now she was glad that he did.

"Why is trial so bad?" She couldn't help it. All this was leading to something that would change the course of her life. Her head was spinning. She hadn't chosen any sort of speciality, wasn't sure if she would, but now that she was hearing all this. . . it just seemed wrong, and a part of her was desperate to fix it.

Chris sat back, crossed his arms. "Well, let me paint you a picture, Mass. You're a little kid. You have to go and sit up in front of a bunch of people. You don't know a lot of them. You're scared. You can't answer any questions from the safety of your mom's lap. The defense attorney starts asking questions. What he basically will try to do, because you're a scared little kid, is confuse you, or make it seem as if you don't know the difference between a truth and a lie, or that you were coerced into saying the accusations. This is the best way to convince anyone that you weren't touched, because who can really trust a confused kid? So you're up there, and you have to answer questions that you haven't been coached on, and the whole time the person who fucked up your life is sitting there, staring you down, less than ten feet away, scaring the shit out of you."

Massie was stunned beyond words. Silently she stood there while Chris Abeley took another giant gulp of his beer, his face somber.

"I'll tell ya Massie, I love what I do, but sometimes I hate my job."

She knew exactly what he meant. He was doing something, trying to help people, but the same system that was designed to protect people like these children was the same one that failed them, every single day. And these kids were scared, and traumatized. They needed help. They needed to know that they would never be forced to be around anyone who had hurt them.

It was at that exact moment that Massie Block knew exactly what she wanted to do in life.

{}

"_You can't save them all."_

It was her mantra, her motto, of sorts. Well, not a motto. It was just a phrase she had to repeat sometimes, when she was haunted. Because they all haunted her, the failed cases.

The little boy who wouldn't admit to what happened, who jumped off the monkey bars, not putting his arms out to protect himself. The little girl who was threatened and never said anything, as hard as Massie tried, and later walked straight into oncoming traffic. A teenager violated by the varsity football coach, who was later harassed so badly by the town that loved him that she later took it all back.

Massie remembered them all.

They were everywhere. Standing at the foot of her bed, when she couldn't sleep. Behind her, when she brushed her teeth. On the other side of the refrigerator door when she went to close it. On street corners, the waiting room at the dentist, in the backseat of her car. They followed her. Walking through Central Park, doing a double-take, swearing she saw a desperate mother from a year ago, a scared little boy, a helpless little girl. She'd look at them again and realize that it wasn't the same person, but it stuck with her. She saw them everywhere.

"_You can't save them all."_

It didn't work.

"_Yes you can. You just _didn't_."_

"_No, you _couldn't_ save them all."_

"_Yes you could, but you _failed._"_

Her mind was at war with itself. The guilt, all consuming, the guilt that was killing her. She loved what she did, but she hated her job.

Sometimes she wishes, for a few seconds, that she was at her graduation party again, a freshly graduated girl, and instead of having any sort of conversation with Chris Abeley, she simply smiled and gave him a wave.

She hadn't, though. Instead she talked to him which sent her on this path. And once those few seconds were over, she would realize again that she truly wanted to do what she did. Somebody needed to. She was fighting for a noble cause, and even if it was slowly killing her, she knew that she was doing something right.

There was another side of her, the rational side that rarely won the arguments, that tried to tell her it wasn't her fault. She had been told that by a lot of people - friends, family, her therapist. Yes, she had a therapist, she can't be her own therapist.

They all said the same thing, in the same voice. _You can't save them all._

But that's the thing. She could.

Couldn't she?

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><p><strong>Reviews are greatly appreciated! Was it worth it or not?<strong>


	2. These Collisions Rock Me, Baby

**A/N: Ohmigosh, you guys, I'm so excited! Four out of the five reviews I got were people saying that they read the first version! This feels like a reunion or something. Group hug! And new fans, I'm so happy to have you. I hope you like this chapter. Also, just a quick side note: the plot will move along a little slower because I'm not in such a rush, as I was the first time I wrote this. But I will try and be a good updater.**

**And the plot varies a little bit so watch for that! It isn't completely the same story, but I promise everything you loved about _Justice_ will still be here.**

_Disclaimed._

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><p>"Daddy. Daaaaadeeeee. Daddy! Dad. Wake. UP!"<p>

Derrick Harrington kept his eyes closed and stayed perfectly still. There was a distant hope floating in his tired mind that if he pretended to be asleep, Sydney would find something better to do.

She didn't.

"Daddy, please? I know you're awake."

He opened his eyes. It was just getting light out, the sun peeking through his shades. His little girl obstructed the light by standing over him, smiling.

"Good morning! Did I wake you up?"

He couldn't help but smile at her.

"Yup, sweetie, you did." He took another second to close his eyes again. How did she have so much energy? This early? Where did it come from?

"Daddy, it's almost time."

She was right, of course. Not ten seconds after saying that, his alarm clock began beeping, gradually getting faster and louder. Six am. Damn. As his hand came down to turn it off, Sydney began her usual excited rambling.

"Let's have pancakes. And waffles. And muffins, and cereal, and doughnuts, and cupcakes, and ice cream. . ."

"No, pumpkin."

"Why _not, _Daddy?"

"For the same reason it is every morning. You can't have ice cream in the morning, we don't have time for that other stuff, too much sugar in donuts. . ." He caught himself dozing off in his answer and shook his head to wake up. "Now get in the kitchen, I'll be in there in just a minute."

He took a minute to get his bearings, stretching and breathing deeply. It was early, way too early, and yet the exact same time he'd been getting up for years. It was going to be a typical Tuesday, which involved Sydney going to preschool and then daycare, and then his driver would get her delivered to his office around five, which would give him an hour before she started getting impatient and demanded that they go home.

When he finally made it to the kitchen, his coffeemaker was working away, as he set it to make his coffee at five fifty-five every morning. He poured himself a cup and added a bunch of sugar to it, taking a sip. Sydney peered at him curiously.

"Can I have some?" She gave him the look - big doe eyes, brown like his, and attempted to bat her eyelashes. It ended up looking like some fast blinking.

"No, sweetheart."

She frowned. "Why _not, _Daddy?"

"Because remember yesterday you asked? And I said you could, and you didn't like it. And the day before that I let you try some, and you didn't like it then either." He wondered briefly if this lapse in memory was normal, but brushed the thought away. She was only six.

"Oooh." Sydney looked down, scrunched up her face. "Now I 'member."

Derrick grinned to himself as he worked around the kitchen, pulling out the bowl and standard Cheerios she had every morning. On weekends he let her have what she wanted - usually Froot Loops, or Lucky Charms - but other days it was something with less sugar. Sydney on a sugar high was not a good situation.

She patiently waited for him to set it in front of her. And like every morning, he came over with the milk jug and she put her hand on it, "helping" him pour it into her bowl.

Sometimes, it was the little things.

Derrick himself also ate the Cheerios, and talked with her as they ate. Talking with a six year-old was more eventful than one would think. It's funny, because sometimes when Sydney leans in and tells Derrick that she has a secret, he wants to laugh - what kind of secret could she possibly hide that was important enough to keep secret?

She was six, it's not like she was holding matters of national security.

But he still nodded seriously and promised he wouldn't tell a soul.

This morning she was talking about school, and what she would be doing today.

"The butterflies are gonna be coming out soon, and we get to read 'Where the Wild Things Are', my favorite, Daddy!" She leans in, whispers. "I don't think any of the other kids have heard it yet, so I can't tell them what happens." When she pulls back she giggles and returns to her cereal. Derrick just stares for a second.

It would never wear off, the amazement of having an actual conversation with Sydney. When she first started talking, like all babies, it was one word statements. And you couldn't carry on a conversation. Then the older she got, the more Derrick could say something and she would say an actual response that made sense. And then he could say something else and she would have been able to follow and it was just. . . so great.

Being a father was both the most rewarding and yet most difficult experience of his life. Sure, there were moments when he was honestly confused as to how he ever thought he'd be able to take on a job like this, but then most of the time, he couldn't imagine his life any other way.

Sydney was everything to him. She was his princess, his little firecracker, the center of his world, the sun which he revolved around. It didn't help that she was a dead ringer for Megan, with the same hair, high cheekbones, pink lips. The same tiny nose, the way it would scrunch up just like Megan's when she was concentrated on something, or pouting. Her little mouth, which screwed up in a scowl when she was annoyed. An identical giggle, which always popped up at the most mundane things - a caterpillar tickling the skin of her arm, a cloud shaped like a turtle.

Sydney was his consolation prize - it was during her birth that he lost Megan, her mother. Sydney, he's convinced, was sent to console him. She wasn't supposed to survive either. It was a car accident that put Megan in labor early, too early - just thirty-two weeks - and neither the mother nor the baby were expected to survive, considering the injuries that Megan had sustained in the accident.

Sydney was not the doctors' main concern, anyway. The mother always comes first. And when they had to deliver her via c-section, because Megan had gone into labor and they couldn't stop it, they were still concerned mainly with Megan.

Instead, it was Megan who died of blood loss, brain damage, and a punctured lung at 2:35 am on a Wednesday morning. He remembers the whole thing perfectly because he was there, the whole time. He remembers because every time Sydney asks him what time she was born, he knows it was at 2:33 am. Two of the most pivotal moments of his entire life were separated by just two minutes.

He shouldn't have let Megan drive.

She was so eager to get behind the wheel. Jubilant. Her car was being repaired, the zippy little Audi she loved so much.

"Soon," she said, "my belly will be too big."

He had relented, not that it took too much convincing. It was going to be a bigger pain to pick up her car if he didn't just let her drive.

They both drove down to the shop in his car, his beloved Porsche. On the drive back, Megan was in front of him, he was trailing behind.

It all happened in slow motion. Her, driving through the intersection - she hadn't had a stop sign, the other car did - and the car, going right through it, colliding with the side of her car, blindsiding her.

The whole thing was less than two seconds, but ask Derrick and it was years.

He rode in the ambulance with her. She hadn't held his hand, instead he clutched hers, limp as it was. He didn't think about what that meant, instead just focused on what had to happen. Megan had to live. There was simply no other choice in the matter.

She was already brain-dead when they got to the hospital. That's what the doctors told him, anyway. Her spine was broken beyond repair, as she'd turned as far as she could when the car hit - her back taking the brunt instead of her belly. Her body was close behind her brain in death, that's why they got Sydney out so fast.

He hears the beeping in his mind sometimes, clear as day, then the slow tone that went on forever.

He couldn't believe what happened until things _stopped _happening. Sydney was being taken care of on a table in another room, he had seen the oxygen mask they had pressed against her tiny, doll-like face. The words they used, so fast and complicated he wouldn't know what they meant if he tried to figure it out.

"I'm sorry," the doctor had said and that was when he collapsed on the chair. He knew that she was gone because they weren't trying to save her anymore. But what would they do? She was brain-dead anyway. She was gone long before they made it to the hospital.

His face was in his hands when the nurse approached him.

"Mr. Harrington?" she'd murmured. "Mr. Harrington, do you want to see your daughter?"

She led him to the place where Sydney lay, under a plastic shield from the world, a light that radiated heat. She had on a diaper that was too big, and a breathing tube. She looked tiny and frail, and still beautiful. She had Megan's full lips, and the lightest swirl of cinnamon colored hair on her head. Ten fingers, ten toes, but so tiny. He stared at them, shocked that fingernails could be so small. And the thin tube that snaked past her delicate collarbone, taped under her nose.

"Just for the time being," the nurse explained. "She's doing remarkably well, considering. Great weight for this early - 2 pounds on the dot."

He had smiled then, just minutes after the death of his wife.

And that's how he knew that he would make it. Because he had this baby. She was going to get him through this.

"We never got to fill some things out for the birth certificate, which we would have done shortly before her due date." She began pulling out forms, asking him questions. He didn't even think before telling her the name.

"Sydney Lynn. Megan's grandma."

And at that moment he burst into tears, because Megan - she was gone. She never got to meet her daughter. She had been so ridiculously excited. They already had clothes, the nursery, diapers, everything. Megan always said the same thing.

"I can't wait to hold her. I _just can't_ wait."

He thanks whatever higher power that is out there for Sydney, every single day.

And again, every single day, he asks the same question: Why couldn't he have Megan too?

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><p><em>Reviews are appreciated!<em>


	3. Escape This Present, Make That Future

**A/N: Hey! Chapter three. Hope you like.**

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><p>When Massie walks into work on Monday, her secretary is giving her a death glare.<p>

"What's got you all pissy?" Massie asks, busying herself with straightening out the waiting area, picking up the toys and tossing them in the bin, pushing the chairs into neat rows. Stephanie doesn't answer her.

"Seriously, the phone is ringing."

Stephanie stares ahead at her, but wordlessly picks up the phone and her face doesn't change. Massie mentally rolls her eyes. Mondays sucked.

"Massie Block's office, how can I help you?"

Massie stands and waits for the call to be over, tapping her foot.

When Steph hangs up, she sighs loudly. Massie raises one perfectly arched brow, silently questioning.

"I got screamed at just before you walked in."

Massie smiles. "And _that_ pissed you off? That's gonna happen a few more times this week, you know. What's new?" It was no secret that in her business, they almost always had impatient, irate parents to deal with.

Stephanie shakes her head slightly, as if clearing it, and smiles. "Just a shitty way to start Monday, you know?" She looked down at the notes she'd been writing diligently. "You've got those people coming in. Um, the engineer? And his wife. And the kid."

Massie laughs. "A little more specific, dear. What's his name?"

Stephanie starts typing. "Umm, Joshua. Still no confession, or, like, revelation, but get this. Got a message over the weekend from that doctor you sent them to, Marissa? She the new one, young. Anyway she found definite signs of sexual abuse. He was raped, for sure." Stephanie looks up, frowns. "So the parents are freaking out, and are gonna want you to get a name out of him soon. Probably today."

Massie nodded, scratched her head. "I was hoping he'd do it today. How long do I have?"

Stephanie is just looking down at her notes when the door opens. Massie smiles warmly at the three people that walk in. A little boy, about nine, an anxious-looking mother, a father that looks like he hasn't slept in days. All very typical.

"Hi," the mother says, her voice shaking like she's about to lose all her composure. Massie places her hand on the woman's arm comfortingly.

"Hey, Mrs. Sullivan, let's just head right into my office." Massie leads the way, shoots a grin towards the little boy. "And you, Joshua, have a treat. I got a new box of crayons over the weekend." He smiles back but it's lifeless, a sad shadow of the boy he was just three weeks ago. His eyes are dull, not the shade of warm brown they should be.

When they all make it to Massie's office, everyone takes a seat. Joshua plops himself down on the colorful rug, and busies himself with the fresh box of crayons on the tiny table next to him. His mother primly sits on the couch, his father next to her, his hand on her knee. The tension in the air is thick.

"Tell me about your weekend." Massie is writing down everything in front of her, rapid fire, in a handwriting that only she can read.

"We didn't do much. Joshua wasn't in a talking mood. Thursday was a long day for us that's the day we saw the doctor. The weekend was very calm."

Massie nods and then sets her pad down. Slowly she gets up from her chair and crouches next to Joshua. Kids never talked when she was sitting over them, far away. She found that kneeling down on their level, talking softly, was the best way to get them to talk. It's also why she rarely wore skirts, even though she would have loved to.

"Hey, buddy, whatcha drawing there?"

He's quiet, but stops his drawing and slides the paper towards Massie. His tiny hand taps his fingers, one at a time. _taptaptaptaptap_

"It's my classroom," he whispers, so quiet Massie isn't even sure if his mother heard him.

"Oh, I see. Well this classroom needs. . ."

"Kids," he says, and picks up some other crayons. Massie picks up one, too, and helps him with the little stick figures.

"There, now it has students. And the person who teaches the students is. . ."

Joshua looks up, glares. "Nobody," he hisses. _Bingo._

Massie pulls back, swallows. "Okay, well are you in this picture? Wanna draw yourself?"

Joshua goes to say something else, but his mother interrupts.

"Are we doing _anything_ productive?" She is impatient, and she wants an answer now. Unfortunately, this process doesn't work that way. Massie bites back a response.

Instead she puts a hand up, shakes her head, and leans down so she's face to face with Joshua.

"Are you in this picture?" she prompts again.

Joshua shakes his head, uses the brown crayon to draw a door with what appears to be a red circle on it.

"What's that?"

"That's the door to the bathroom." he whispers again, and points to the red circle. "We put the red on it when someone is in there so nobody walks in, and then when you're done you put the green circle on. The door doesn't lock."

Massie nods. "That's a clever system. Who is in there?"

Joshua's jaw clenches, his eyes begin to get teary. "Me. _I'm_ in there."

Massie is just about to say something else when Joshua bangs his fist on the door in his picture. She jumps, and stays quiet. Her skin prickles with goosebumps, and she knows these are the final seconds before he says something that will change everything.

"I'm in there," he whispers again, this time loud enough so that his parents can hear. "I'm in there, and so is my teacher."

There's a split second where the air in the room stills, where realization dawns on everyone and Massie takes a breath. It's the same after every admission. A second of nothing, and then everyone springs into action.

"Oh God," she says in a strangled gasp and comes down on the floor, her arms wrapping around her son. They both cry, and she rocks back and forth with him presses to her chest. They both cry, for words said and unsaid.

Massie stands, walks over and begins writing. Thank God she had the new camera installed last week, this new one can capture footage in HD and will be able to pick up on Joshua's whispers.

His dad walks over to her, stares at the floor.

"What does this mean?"

Massie pauses in her writing, and looks towards the boy and his mom, still shaking on the floor.

"This means we need to get a name from him. We need him to tell us exactly what happened. And then we need a lawyer." She takes a deep breath. "I'll be right back, I'm just gonna grab some water and a few cookies. You want anything?"

He shakes his head. She softly closes the door behind her and walks to the waiting room, smiles sadly at Stephanie.

"What's wrong?" she asks, eyes wide.

Massie shakes her head, walks over shakily to pull two water bottles out of the glass front fridge. Her breathing is normal but barely. Stephanie stands up, beaming now.

"You got a name?"

Massie shakes her head again, swallows. "No, I didn't get a name, but I got a title." She looks up at Stephanie and sighs. "Teacher. Can you believe it?"

Stephanie raises her eyebrows. "You okay?"

Massie purses her lips, nods. "Yeah, I'm good. I'll be back in a while. When's my next appointment?"

Stephanie looks down, pushes some of her hair behind her ear. "Forty minutes."

"Good. You'll see me then." She walks back to her office, opens to door softly to see the family, composed now, staring up at her.

"Mr. And Mrs. Sullivan, we have a case to build."

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><p>When all is said and done, Joshua will probably get justice. Especially if more children confess that they were abused by the teacher, too. Massie knows this case has a good chance because the kid is talking. Trial might be difficult and scary, but right now, she's confident it will work.<p>

They don't all work like that though, because the kids are young and their memories foggy. And the solution when they don't get justice is often illegal. You see, Chris Abeley had an end to the story he told that night at Massie's graduation.

_"I'll tell ya Massie, I love what I do, but sometimes I hate my job."_

_Massie had one more question._

_"What did you tell the mother to do?" _

_Chris looked down at his drink and sighed. "I told her to take her little girl." He turned in his seat and looked her straight in the eye. "And run."_

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><p><strong>Reviews make me so happy!<strong>


	4. White Silence From Innocence

**Very dark chapter, you've been warned. Includes references to sexual assault of a minor and vaginal trauma.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Clique. I only own the plot.**

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><p>"If you could have it done by tomorrow morning. . ."<p>

"Excuse me?"

"I know, Derrick, and I'm sorry. You originally had a week to finish it, but he changed plans and you know we need this guy-"

"Yeah, yeah I fuckin' know," Derrick Harrington grumbled into the phone as he raked his eyes over the million post-its that were stuck all over his desk.

"You're the best, D." Yeah, sure.

Fuck. One night. One night to finish one of the biggest presentations he'd ever give. One night. To convince a man that this corporation could handle the job they so desperately wanted. He'd have to work straight through the night. And he had to take care of Sydney.

As if on cue, the door to his office opened and his little girl walked in. Typically, she dashed in with open arms and a new story to tell about her day, but today she didn't. If he noticed, it was currently residing in the back of his mind, right behind the presentation he needed to do.

"Hi, Sweetie," he murmured distractedly as he furiously typed away at his computer. It was already almost five. He needed to get home, feed her, give her a bath, read her some stories and then work his ass off. Good thing he owned about a ton of that shitty-tasting drink, 5 Hour Energy.

Pulling an all-nighter was not something Derrick had done since college, but he was definitely prepared to do it again.

Not once did he notice Sydney's silence.

Not on the ride home, as he was so distracted with thoughts of his work awaiting him. Her Disney sing-along music was playing, and he failed to notice that there wasn't a voice to go along with it.

Dinner was a rush, but that wasn't unusual. As a single parent, sometimes he felt as if _everything_ was a rush. Sometimes he went days before actually having his mind focused on one thing, not scattered in a thousand different directions at once.

"C'mon, sweetie, bathtime." Sydney slowly got out of her chair where she'd been picking at her food. He smiled sympathetically at her. She seemed to be feeling under the weather tonight and hadn't eaten her dinner. He hoped she'd be well enough to go to school tomorrow, at least until lunchtime when he wouldn't be busy and could pick her up. Crossing his fingers for silent luck, Derrick followed his distracted daughter into the bathroom.

He was busying himself making sure the water was the right temperature and there was enough bubbles when he offhandedly asked the question. "You feeling okay, baby?"

She didn't answer behind him. When he turned around, she was looking at the floor, eyes wide, shaking her head.

When she started to pull down her pants, he noticed something.

"Sydney, did you have an accident today?"

Every parent was required to keep an "emergency" pair of pants at the school in case of issues like spills, accidents during naptime, or anything like that. He hadn't noticed originally, but she was wearing the black, soft yoga-type pants that he remembered sending her to school with on the second day to keep in her cubby "just in case".

At his question she looked at him and shrugged. Her eyes were even wider, and looking moist. She looked like she truly didn't know what to say.

Derrick chalked it up to embarrassment and turned around while she continued taking off her clothes, piling them in the corner for the hamper. He was cupping his hands under her armpits to lift her into the tub when he noticed.

It wasn't as bad now, but he could tell she'd shed blood. Her inner thighs were slightly pink, sticky. She had her legs clamped together in a vice-like strength, but that didn't hide it.

"Sydney, what happened? Here, sweetie, let me look at it."

He wasn't sure what he expected. Possibly a scratch on her inner upper thigh, something, anything to explain this. The churning feeling in the pit of his stomach made him dizzy.

Sydney shook her head and pulled away.

"Sydney, why were you bleeding? Baby. . ." She swallowed and let her leg muscles go slack.

Derrick sat her down on the edge of the tub and slowly eased her thighs apart.

The skin down near her knees were stained a pink-red, but the area near her vagina was still blood red. It looked brutal and sickening. His baby's innocence, torn and bloody. Instantly Derrick pushed her legs back together, feeling like something was very, very wrong. He tried not to let his horror show on his face when he looked back up at Sydney. He wanted to throw up. His gut was twisting, only adding to the heat that was spreading through his fingertips, his stomach. He tried to breathe. Don't throw up, don't throw up.

"Honey, who did this to you? Sydney, look at me." His teeth clenched together and he was sure he looked like a mess at this moment. A fat bead of sweat slid down his face. Fuck, when did he start sweating? He was so cold. Now hot. Now cold again. Fuck, he needed some water or something.

She didn't say a word. His throat locked, eyes unblinking as he helped her get dressed again and helped her into the car. He reached into the back seat and placed a hand on her knee. Whenever he usually did this, he'd give a tickling squeeze and she'd giggle loudly, but tonight she yanked her leg away, not a single sound escaping her throat. Derrick managed to keep his nausea at bay - for the time being.

When they burst through the doors of the emergency room, she was being held tightly on his hip. A few people looked up when he arrived, but for the most part they didn't pay attention. Sydney's injuries weren't visible at the moment.

He got to the front desk and realized his fingers were trembling.

"I don't. . . someone raped my daughter," he whispered, noting the change in the face of the woman working the front desk.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"My daughter is bleeding, or was bleeding, and it doesn't look good and she isn't speaking and I don't know what-"

The woman cut him off, instead pulling a nearby doctor to the front. Her words were low in the doctor's ear.

"We have vaginal trauma on this little girl, we need a rape kit and quiet room for her."

And with those quiet, horrible words, people sprang into action.

It went against all of Derrick's instincts to let someone take Sydney from him, but he did it anyway. A part of him wanted her away from him so he could fall apart without her witnessing it.

Another part of him felt wrong the second she wasn't in his arms. A part of him wanted to hold her tightly and never, ever let go because she was his little girl and someone, some fucking monster had hurt her in the worst way possible. He wanted to destroy something, or hurt someone, anything to make him feel in control again.

"Can I see her? Where are they taking her?"

"Mr. Harrington, just wait a few minutes. I'll be sending you in to see your daughter in just a few moments. The doctors are performing a rape kit right now. Don't worry, she's in good hands."

If he could have pushed his way through every damn wall in this hospital to get to her, he would. Deep down he knew that the doctors were only doing their jobs, but nothing reasonable was at the forefront of his mind at the moment. His chest ached and his mouth was dry. He had never felt more powerless than at that moment.

Five minutes later he was led into a stark white hospital room. Sydney was lying on the bed with an IV pumping in fluids - mild painkillers, he'd been told. She looked a little out of it and was staring at the white tiles of the ceiling.

"Sydney?" At hearing her name from her Daddy's mouth, Sydney's eyes moved slowly until she was looking at him, but she didn't turn her head an inch. A thick white blanket was pulled over her, and he could see a hospital gown that was too big for her, falling down her small shoulders.

He hadn't been in there for two minutes when three police officers walked in.

"Mr. Harrington, this is detective Mike and I'm Riley. We'd like to ask you and your daughter some questions."

Derrick blinked slowly and nodded, everything feeling surreal. It wasn't until the officer raised his voice that he was paying attention again.

"Mr. Harrington, are you okay? Please follow Mike out while I sit down with your daughter."

At that moment Derrick raged. "You couldn't possibly expect me to walk away from her when she's like this, could you? She's my fucking daughter and she's hurting. I'm not going anywhere."

"Mr. Harrington, in order to rule you out as a suspect we must talk to the two of you. Alone."

The pain in Derrick's chest was a fire now, flames licking at his insides. He nodded in defeat and left with the officer, staring back at his daughter sadly until the door closed.

After an hour of questioning, which included severe repetition and hard stares from the officer talking to him, Derrick was called back into the hospital room. A nurse and the detective were standing there as a blank-eyed Sydney stared up.

"Mr. Harrington, we've called in a consultant of ours to help with questioning your daughter. She's so far been silent to our questioning."

Derrick nodded and ran his hands through his hair. "Okay. When is this specialist consultant chick coming?" He was frustrated and tired. It was getting late and his daughter was, well, almost comatose in her responses to him.

"We called her a few minutes ago, she lives close and always arrives quickly."

He didn't even think to ask her name.

"She's wonderful, a real pro and very famous for her skills with children and trauma cases. Maybe you've heard of her?"

Derrick looked up and narrowed his eyes. It couldn't be, could it?

His question was answered when a flustered brunette stepped in.

"Is this the room for Sydney Harrington?" she asked quickly, breathing heavy. Then her eyes met his.

"Oh, Derrick. Oh my god, it's you. I heard the name but I didn't - oh, God. I'm so sorry." Her tone of voice was heartbreaking and full of real sympathy, and he knew then that it was bad. Really bad. Her eyes were giant, watery amber, shaking fingers as she looked over the little girl in the hospital bed. Not the first, and unfortunately not the last. She swallowed. It was painful.

And then he burst into tears, and all Massie Block could do was stare at him.

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><p><strong>Reviews are GREATLY appreciated. I've taken a risky chance in a fandom that doesn't see this sort of thing often - tell me how I'm doing.<strong>


	5. Waiting For The Fall

**A/N: A note everyone should read:**

**This chapter required research, and lot of me filling in blanks that are quite possibly not 100% correct. Before you read, please bear in mind: Lillie D. Blake Elementary is a real elementary school in Manhattan. It really is also known as PS 6. That is ALL that is true about the school. NOTHING ELSE IS. If anything bears resemblance to the story, it is purely coincidental and should NOT affect your opinion of elementary schools in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Got it? Okay, good. Also, I don't own the Clique. Disclaimed.**

**Your reviews:**

**Splendeur: **Thank you! Just knowing you took the time to respond means a lot. I hope this update came fast enough, I tried to get it out quicker. I think I'm getting a little better, right? Lol, let's just see how fast the next update comes:)**  
>if dreams could come alive: <strong>Yeah, the topic is very dark. Sometimes I have a video of kittens open in another tab to help get through these chapters. I hope I'm handling it with the amount of care it requires, though. I try very hard to not make light of the situation. Oh, if you're excited about Derrick and Massie, this chapter has some nice info that fills in a few blanks;)**  
>iheartme104: <strong>The intense ones are actually very weird to right - they take me longer than any of the others. I worked hard on that chapter. In fact, I may have re-read it a million times! Thanks for the review, I hope this update satisfies your craving!**  
>Droseluver: <strong>I aim for stories that aren't like the others you find in this fandom - sometimes it's more of the same, and I love to change things up! I'm glad it worked out well, and that you *love* the story. Makes me smile!**  
>take a chance: <strong>The original Justice was good in its own right, just not good compared to what I can write now. I'm glad you find the story amazing - if I can impress someone, it makes me feel very accomplished. And it makes up for the hours it took to edit and believe in that last chapter. Whew, that was a crazy one! I really did venture out into the unknown - your responses are the only way I have to know if I'm being successful. I am so so so happy you like my writing, not just plot! It's a true passion of mine, and I truly love your kind words:)**  
>how to forget: <strong>Yes, I am back, hopefully on a good updating schedule until this story is over. I hate dropping off the edge of the earth for long periods of time. Also, I'm glad you're cool with serious chapters - that's kind of what this story is all about! Yeah, the details were hard to write and I read that chapter many times to see if it would work. I'm happy it did! I truly hope I'm doing this event justice, because it actually does happen and it is truly horrible. Thank you for your kind review, hope to see you again!**  
>BreathingUnderwater:<strong> Thank you! The word amazing always makes me smile. I'm glad you find this version better, and I'm glad you still love the first one - it was what got me noticed in this fandom, and means a lot, it was just time to rewrite. Thanks for wishing me luck on the writing - if you haven't noticed, I don't always tackle easy subject matter, so... I need all the luck I can get! Enjoy the update:)**  
>Readingcutie428:<strong> First off, thanks for the review! No matter how small, I appreciate them all! Yeah, it is retty sad - writing it is pretty hard, but getting the words out is good. I can only hope I am doing this tragic event justice. Thanks for the review, enjoy the update:)**  
>hawtjuicyaddict: <strong>Thanks! I aim for good! Yeah, it is VERY sad, and since it's a very real thing that happens often in this world, I am trying very hard to write it in a realistic and careful way. I hope you like the update, and don't worry, you will see someone go to jail - just not yet;)

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><p>Of three things the doctors were positively sure of:<p>

Sydney Harrington had been raped by an adult male, who happened to leave some semen behind. A small amount, but some nonetheless.

The rapist had not been Derrick Harrington. Granted, the DNA tests hadn't been completed yet, but if his willingness to provide a DNA sample was any indication of his guilt, he was an innocent man.

And the third thing the doctors were sure of, but still confused as to _how_ and _why_, was that Sydney Harrington couldn't utter a single word. They were sure it wasn't physical, but when she attempted to speak, nothing came out. Soon she quit. She appeared to be thinking about what, exactly, she should say, but never found out.

Unfortunately, Massie Block hadn't gotten a word out of her. Not that she expected to - she told the detectives and doctors that it would probably be a week, at least. They still hovered in the room while Massie chattered to the little girl.

Massie had wanted to punch one of the nurses in the face.

"Maybe she'd say something if she could get a word in edgewise, Ms. Block." She had been one of the most eager to hear Sydney speak. Massie narrowed her eyes and stood abruptly, walking quickly to the small bathroom, not even gesturing for the nurse to follow. The woman made her way over and braced herself for Massie's retaliation.

"I'm sorry, but Sydney isn't interested in talking right now. She can decide when she wants to talk to me. For now, I'm going to help distract her from her pain and I'm working on making talking _not a big deal_. The more she thinks the world will tip if she utters a single word, the less likely she is to say anything. And if anyone else, ever, wants to question _me_ on _my_ job, please don't do it in front of the kid. Actually, maybe you shouldn't question _shit_. We have a six year old rape victim in the hospital bed right now, I'm not going to beg her to yell the name of her attacker, do you want to?"

The nurse pursed her lips, swallowing before she gathered her words. "I'll be back to serve her lunch."

Massie took a deep breath, and slowly made her way back to Sydney's bed. She'd arrived here at midnight, and hadn't slept in 11 hours. Actually, make that over 24 hours, seeing as she had been awake prior to arriving. Her brain was fried, and she needed at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Sydney was still on light pain meds, she would probably crash after lunch anyway. After that, Massie thought, it would be best for her father to spend some time with her. His devastation was clear, but he was very good at hiding it, putting on a soft smile for the little girl he so clearly adored.

Just the thought of Derrick's broken spirit, crumbling right before her very eyes, made her want to cry. Derrick. Derrick fucking Harrington. It was bad enough that the last time they talked he was just married, wearing a tux and telling her how nervous he was for the toast he was going to make to Megan. She can remember it clear as day, because they were still very much in love - not necessarily romantic love, but they knew forever that they'd always care about each other.

_He was breathing hard, lips pursed. He held the crumpled piece of notebook paper in his hand, shaking slightly._

"_Jesus, Derr, don't be so nervous!" She was smiling, reaching up to straighten his tie and make him smile. "You'll do great. If you forget, wing it. It won't be hard - Megan is amazing."_

_He nodded, smiling so much it looked like his face might split in half. "Isn't she?"_

_Massie smiled back. "Go get 'em, Tiger."_

_He leaned in then, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Mass."_

_She smiled back at him as he walked away, so happy for her best friend she thought she might be dreaming._

She isn't sure, exactly, why they didn't talk at all after. He took a long honeymoon, and she was studying hard. She got her college thesis published in a psychology journal. Her name was spreading across campuses through the nation. He was there for her graduation, but had to leave before she left the stage - she did get to make a speech. After graduation she worked at a small private practice for two years, before taking a considerable loan from her father and building her own, from the ground up. Her name was known just for that, alone, but being the top go-to gal for crimes involving children was the icing on the cake. It was harder than anything she'd ever done - difficult, heartbreaking, and the crippling regret she felt when she didn't help achieve justice was enough to take her down on its own. One year into helping police and lawyers, she had found her own therapist she was seeing once, sometimes twice a week.

Sometimes she thinks she might be as damaged as the kids she works with. And then she tries to help a little girl who can't say a word and she remembers - she's not even close to the misery these children are feeling. And if her own unhappiness doesn't compare to that of the kids', they must hate the entire fucking world.

It's the only thing, sometimes, that gets her up in the morning. The reminder, the ghosts that follow her, they are painful and terrible but they remind her of the cause she so desperately attacks. She wants to help people. And even though the children she has worked with is only a tiny fraction of the damaged minors that roam the globe, part of her always has to believe she's making a difference. Sometimes it isn't easy, but it's for a good reason.

The worst is losing two kids in a row. Two kids who won't get justice. One is bad enough, but if she can help someone after that, she feels better. Multiple children getting screwed royally by the justice system at once, under her care, is almost enough to make her quit. She could, at any time, she knows that, but then she gets a new client and simply can't.

She leaves just as a drowsy Derrick is coming back in. He begins setting up the cot in the hospital room, ready to pass out the second Sydney finishes her lunch. Massie gave him strict instructions to talk to Sydney as if she was still talking - sans questions, obviously, but she didn't want him afraid to say anything. Kids - they pick up on everything.

When she collapses into bed for the first time in over 24 hours, all she can think about is the brown eyes that are haunting her. Silent, sad, dead brown eyes. She's seen young eyes, completely empty of life and hope, but this time is particularly hard to swallow. Children - they aren't meant to look like that. They aren't meant to be cynical and angry at the world at six. Nobody should ever wish to drop dead, but experiencing such a thing at age six was deplorable.

But she'd seen it. Sydney was wearing that look right now, as she stared at the hospital food in front of her. As she tried to keep awake despite the pain medication, as she tried to ignore the soreness between her young, innocent legs. Sydney had no life left in her at the moment, and Massie could see it in her eyes.

She only hoped that Derrick didn't recognize it, because realizing his daughter lost her will to live might just break him completely.

"Mass, it's possible you - or someone - might have to release a statement." Detective Granstrom was the lead on the case. At the moment, he was questioning every staff member currently employed at Lillie D. Blake Elementary in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Otherwise known as PS 6. Going through every staff member was tedious and a serious hassle, but very necessary. Unfortunately the parents were horrified and outraged a sex crime had been committed, most likely within the school's walls. They were angry, demanding to know the school's policy on background checks and who made the cut.

They had hired three new tech guys to help with the computers a week ago, and two of them were at the school on the day of the alleged rape of Sydney Harrington, minor. One had actually been in her classroom, working on the computer and SmartBoard that hadn't been working. However, the detective knew that the tech guys were a dead end, as both of them were all too willing to provide semen samples to clear their names. It pretty much answered the detective's question, seeing as if either of them had been responsible, they would have fought and lawyered up. So far, nobody had done such thing.

Another thing that had to be accounted for was the fact that Sydney's teacher hadn't been present on the day of the rape. Instead, in her place was a frazzled young woman on her first day of her new job - substitute teaching. The school was in the process of preparing new classrooms, but in the meantime classes were large - up to 25 first graders, in some cases. Sydney could have disappeared during that time and nobody would have had to notice.

To top off the complications in the case, there was six hour period, almost the length of time of the entire school day, when the cameras had not been working. It was part of the reason the school had been hiring more people to work with the technology. The school had been dealing with random camera blackouts for the past few weeks, and it was a serious safety hazard. PS 6 was a fairly old building, hitting a point in its age when they needed to upgrade and work on everything electrical. Bring in the facts that the school was growing, they were attempting to develop more classrooms, and hiring new teachers, the budget had been stretched to its limits.

The camera issue was the biggest problem the parents had. The school was now the main focus of several fundraisers that were attempting to save the institution that was so prestigious. People seemed to be taking one of two sides. Either parents were firm in their support of the school, or they were pulling their kids faster than you could say "investigation of a sex crime".

It was a mess, and Massie Block was being asked to make a statement in hopes to calm the school down.

It hadn't been the first time, of course, she'd made such a statement. Well, she'd never done that in a school. An elementary school in the Upper East Side of Manhattan simply _didn't_ have a sex crime happen within its walls. The fallout was violent and could potentially fuck the school over for the next ten years. That is, if people forgot, which didn't happen in the Upper East Side.

Her name was well known enough that with an introduction, a mention of her latest book and a list of her qualifications would instantly make the parents feel better about the institution they were sending their children to. If a highly qualified, famous child psychologist was trusting of the school, it couldn't possibly be dangerous, could it?

Massie didn't want to make a statement though. In truth, she wasn't exactly sure of the safety of PS 6. She didn't feel comfortable in giving these parents a false sense of security. Living where they did made them feel invincible enough - they needed to know that they were just as susceptible to some crimes as anyone else in New York City. She was not going to take the fall if she announced her confidence of the safety and another child was victimized. In fact, she wasn't sure if she could handle another child being victimized within the school walls. It was something that made the news when it happened. Not the evening news, either. The kind of news where there's a van parked outside the school, with a reporter repeating all the gory details as children walked into the building. Hell, the person who would get arrested for this crime was facing more hate than Casey Anthony. It was a big case to be the face of, and she was not interested in taking criticism for something someone wanted her to say.

The Superintendent of the school, however, was firm that something needed to be said. He was sweating the phone calls from parents, reporters, and police. His school was under fire and he was taking the sour words of angry people who just couldn't believe that an elementary school could be so unsafe, so horrible, so dangerous. His reputation was on the line and he was not ready to face the music - PS 6 should have dealt with the camera problem a long time ago, and it's failure to mention the problem to parents, to make anyone aware, was a fall he'd simply have to take.

Personally, Massie didn't care for the man, but she could understand the position he was in. He made a lot of money doing what he did, and a lot of people had a lot of pull on his decisions. A historic, prized institution was being torn down by people who knew how to tear things down. If there was one thing that rich Manhattan residents knew how to do, it was use their money to ruin someone else.

Massie couldn't make a statement though. She didn't feel comfortable with it and frankly, this man should be the one making such a statement. He was at the forefront of this. If it were her choice, she wouldn't do a single interview, but she knew that when people started getting accused and the police made an arrest, her house would be surrounded. It was one thing she hated about cases like this. Last year she counseled a politician's son, and it was just as crazy.

She had learned one thing in this job - news outlets would do anything for a juicy story involving injustice and children. They pounced on the chance to create a victim and find a place to put the blame. It was one thing that republicans and democrats could agree on - nobody like child rapists.

The Superintendent was going to have to be the one addressing parents. He already had, but only once, and the statement was short. It wasn't enough to even come close to soothing the nerves of frantic moms and dads. Detective Granstrom agreed - this investigation would go a lot smoother if he had a little more privacy to do so, and satisfying the reporters and parents was the best way to get it done.

The worst part about the whole thing, really, was that at the center of it all was a little girl who couldn't find the words for what had happened to her. A little girl who, with the tiniest whisper of one man's name, could bring it all crumbling down.

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><p><strong>Reviews are appreciated!<strong>


	6. Closed Eyes And Bitten Lips

**A/N: Yeah, this chapter isn't exactly happy. They won't be for a while, though. Little pepperings of Derrick/Massie, but again, the romance can't truly bloom until we've taken care of the big problems first. I hope you like - again, not my most cheerful work. **

**Disclaimed. Like seriously, I don't own the Clique.**

**Your reviews:**

**if dreams could come alive: **Oh, yes I have definitely put more thought into this one, and I plan to carry on with the elementary school and what was wrong. I hope it turns out well. And I'm actually kinda glad you feel bad for them, 'cause that's the point. And it means I'm doing this right! I hope this chapter gives you some of the action that was needed, the last chapter was really about background. Thanks for reviewing!  
><strong>how to forget: <strong>YES. I am so glad you said that! It definitely is MUCH more thought out, and the details were really necessary. I don't know how I wrote the last one without some of them. And seriously, nobody likes a perfect character. That's so boring. Thanks for enjoying the flaws! I am so happy for this review, it just made my day! The fact that you took the time made me really smile. I'm glad you liked the last chapter. While it was a filler, it was very important, and got a lot of things out into the open. Also, thank you for liking Derrick and Massie's relationship. I know it's different that the last story, but I like it more.  
><strong>hawtjuicyaddict: <strong>Oh, I am so excited for when you guys find out who did the crime. It truly, truly will be awesome. Just wait! And thanks for encouraging me to update. I'm getting a little better, yeah?  
><strong>escape to nowhere: <strong>YES. It is a real issue that needs attention. Violence against the vulnerable is so wrong. And I like that you notice the message. It's something that isn't taken seriously enough. Not many people are aware that the number one reason women are admitted to the ER is because of a violent crime against them. More people need to know! Okay, rant over. But seriously, you are totes my homegirl right now. Do not worry about the short review, the fact that you took the time at all is awesome. And also, you dance, which I could never do, so... congratulations. Lol.

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><p>"I know you're nervous, but trust me, going home really is the best thing right now."<p>

Derrick swallowed and tried to smile at Massie. "I guess you're the professional. . ."

She let out one single chuckle, a light puff of air. "Derrick, don't over think things. She needs a stable place right now. And the best place for her to be is home. The past couple days have been nothing but unfamiliar. She needs you, too, more than ever." Massie was busying herself with the blankets on Sydney's hospital bed, straightening and making sure the girl was covered. She was, of course, but Massie needed to keep her hands busy.

Derrick nodded. "You're right." His hand was resting on his daughter's back. She was turned on her side, dozing lightly. It was 8:30 in the morning, marking approximately 36 hours - a day and a half - since they'd arrived. Sydney was being sent home at noon.

Massie sat down in one of the hard plastic chairs and began rummaging through her purse.

"Okay, I bought a few things on my way here that I know you probably haven't really been thinking of. Not that I blame you." She smiled reassuringly before pulling some items out. "I'll just give you the receipts, you can include that in the bills you'll be paying the next few weeks."

They had decided on a plan for counseling Sydney. She'd be in Massie's office three times a week starting the day after they arrived home. Massie had decided that for the first few visits, she'd instead come to the Harrington's directly before having the little girl leave the house.

"Anyway, I got some clothes for her, since her old ones aren't exactly here and she's been wearing that hospital gown." Massie pulled out some soft, pink sweatpants, a t-shirt with Ariel on the front and some little flip-flops. The next item was a three pack of Hanes and a sweatshirt.

"This will be comfortable for her to wear home. Stick to things like these until she decides to wear something else - in my experience, jeans are not comfort clothes."

The next thing she had was a big, colorful book. "American Sign Language For Children".

"This is wonderful, but do not think you can use it for the hard questions. Don't try and get her to identify people with it, don't ask her about her ordeal with it. Start by getting her to let you know what she wants to do, eat, and wear." Sydney was, as of this moment, responding to "yes" and "no" questions, with tiny nods and shakes of her head. Massie didn't want to push her to speak, but it was important that they got her to start expressing her thoughts and wants, rather than approval and disapproval of what everyone _else_ thought and wanted.

Derrick smiled. "Am I teaching her sign language? Won't that just make it so she is less likely to speak?"

Massie shook her head. "I mostly bought it for the pictures. Great illustrations and lots of examples. She can point out things. Though I won't discourage you from teaching her the basics - more, hungry, tired, bathroom." Massie set the book down and placed her hand on Derrick's knee. "We need to remember that the silence is both physical and emotional. She is afraid to speak. She wants to, but is afraid, and even if she decided to speak, she doesn't seem able to get the words out."

Massie smiled at she placed the pile of things at the foot of the hospital bed. "She will speak when she is ready, I am positive about that. You raised a strong, persistent girl Derrick, she just needs time."

She paused in her speaking to pull out more things. Two boxes of children's Tylenol were first. "The hospital will say to take this as needed, but I would make sure she gets some every four or five hours or so for the first day or two. The worst of the pain she endured, right after the rape, she was completely silent about, so we don't know if we can trust her to let us know if she's in pain. Eventually, make it clear that she needs to let you know."

The last object confused Derrick. "A children's mouthguard? Why does she need this?" He held the box up and raised his eyebrows. Massie lightly grabbed his arm.

"C'mere," she murmured, pulling him around the bed so they were looking at Sydney's face, eyes roaming over her sleeping form. "Look," she whispered, pointing her finger to the girl's jaw. After a second you could see the tick, the tensing of muscles.

"She's clenching her teeth?" Derrick asked, looking to the woman for guidance.

"Yeah, I noticed it before I left yesterday. It's worse when she sleeps. Try and get her to wear it at night, on her upper teeth."

She turned the box over, pointing to the directions. "Put it in boiling water for a minute, wait for it to cool a little, then have her put it in her mouth. It'll form nicely. Don't have her bite down, or it won't be thick enough to work with her clenching." She dropped the box neatly into his hand, smiling.

"Don't be afraid to ask for help, Derrick. I have done things like this many times. Please, call me whenever you need me, okay?"

He nodded then, closing his eyes for a moment, willing the tears he wanted to shed to not fall. He felt Massie's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," she said softly, and then she was pulling him into a hug. "You are an amazing dad, Derrick. This is not your fault. Please don't ever think that." She pulled away, making him look her straight in the eye. "We will figure this out, and she will be okay. Don't you _ever_ blame yourself."

She walked over and grabbed her oversized purse then and gave him a sorrowful look. "I'm going to let you two have some time together. Tomorrow I'll be at your house at noon, wait so we can eat lunch together. I'll be giving you a number for a woman who teaches, too. I was thinking for the next few weeks Sydney doesn't attend school, but it would be best if she resumes lessons soon." She took a deep breath. "We'll discuss specifics tomorrow, okay?" She walked over to him again and sighed. "One day at a time, Derr, okay?"

If he hadn't been so beaten down, so depressed, he would have snapped his neck hearing her say his old nickname again. She was smiling when he made eye contact.

"Thanks for everything, Mass," he said, and was pleased to see the surprise in her eyes. She was holding back some amusement, he could tell. Well, if she wanted to start hugging him and dropping nicknames, he could play that game too.

She walked out then, with a small wave and a glance at the sleeping form on the bed. He swears - to this day - that she had moist eyes upon leaving.

That may have just been the moment he fell in love with her, as inappropriate as the whole thing felt.

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><p>"Hello, hello," came the sweet, soft voice, like little bells. Sydney looked up wearily, but her eyes showed the tiniest bit of joy at seeing Massie walk through the door to her home. It was a penthouse in the Upper East Side, all rich dark wood, modern furnishings and big windows. She was busying herself on the floor of the expansive living room, a jumble of brightly colored toys surrounding her. Cinderella was playing on the giant, thin flatscreen.<p>

"Welcome. We waited to have lunch, the pizza should be coming soon." Massie smiled then, toeing off her shoes delicately and setting her large handbag on the floor by the coatrack.

"Did you order a pizza?" she asked, the smallest of smiles on her face. She was raising her eyebrows silently, jokingly with a look that said, "Really?"

Derrick smiled back, just as, if not even more cocky. "Yes we did. Sydney picked it out. Four-cheese, sausage and green peppers. I also have grape soda and Diet Coke."

Massie smiled even more, happy with the interaction Sydney was already having. "Miss Sydney picked it out, huh?" Her question got Sydney to raise her head, looking at her solemnly. "Well, pizza sounds delicious."

At that moment the doorbell chimed, and again Derrick was greeting a new person. The boy was young, bored, and rolled his eyes at Derrick's generous tip.

They had a living room picnic, something Sydney had never had before.

"Never? You have never, ever had an inside picnic?" She made a face that suggested incredulous shock. Sydney smiled, barely, and shook her head. "Well, then I know exactly what we'll be doing."

They spread a blanket out in the living room, pushing her toys off to the side, and set out their spread of food. Sydney got a tall glass of cold grape soda and slurped it loudly, through a straw. Massie couldn't help but giggle.

"So," she said then, keeping her voice light. "How are things, Sydney? I have to say, you do look very beautiful today."

Sydney was wearing a bright pink, lacy dress. It was complete with a tiara. She blushed when Massie brought it up.

Derrick chuckled. "She was already wearing it when I went inside to wake her up this morning." Despite his smile, Massie could see the concern etched into the lines of his face. Something about this morning must have bothered him.

Massie chose to ignore it for the time being, smiling instead at the dress. "Well, I do say, it's a very good choice. Now, I have a few other questions, if you don't mind?"

Sydney lost her smile at that moment, pursing her lips, taking a breath. Massie expected this - none of the questions thus far by strangers had been pleasant, nor easy to answer. She pushed on. They needed to go slow, but at the same time, this was a police investigation. She needed to start getting answers.

"I wanted to first ask how you were feeling. Are you hurting, Sydney?"

Sydney furrowed her little brows then, biting her lip. She looked frustrated.

Massie tried to be reassuring. "That's okay, it's hard to explain sometimes. Let me help. Are you hurting between your legs?"

Sydney turned her head to the side, squinting slightly. Her small fingers were fumbling in her lap, tangling together.

"Does it only hurt a little bit?"

She nodded, relieved that Massie had picked up on her silent language. Meanwhile, Derrick was watching, fascinated. He wanted to kiss Massie and comfort his daughter at the same time.

Massie leaned down so she was closer to the little girl. "Are you hurting anywhere else, too?"

Sydney huffed, again looking confused and unsure how to proceed. Massie put her hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Does it hurt inside, Sydney?"

A minute passed with Sydney's lip trembling, then another. It was then that the little girl began to cry silently, but she nodded nonetheless.

Massie was breathing deeply as she spoke, desperate to keep her composure. She had gotten very good at hiding her anguish during these sessions - that didn't mean it wasn't hard. "Is it the kind of hurt that nobody can see? That medicine doesn't help?"

At this, Sydney's shoulders began to shake with her silent sobs. Derrick looked angry. He wanted to help his daughter. He wanted to get answers. But when she started crying, dammit, the next question shouldn't be one that would make her cry more.

"Is this really where we wanted the conversation to go?" he demanded, attempting to put a stop to Massie's questioning. Massie put a finger to her lips, and looked him in the eye.

"This is the first time she's cried, isn't it, Derrick?"

He looked surprised then, And maybe even a little happy.

"Yeah, actually, it is."

Massie nodded, and mouthed silently, "This is good." They were quiet then, letting Sydney cry without a sound. It was than that Massie got one answer - the lack of voice was definitely something that Sydney didn't have complete control over. The only sound was the rustling of her dress as she moved, rubbing her eyes, and the breathy sounds that came from her mouth, the noise of her sniffing loudly.

She put her hand on Sydney's shoulder again, prompting her to look up. "Sydney, do you know what the man looked like? The man who made you hurt?"

Sydney rubbed her eyes ferociously. A quick nod was enough.

Massie smiled gently. "What would you say to him, if he was here?"

Sydney narrowed her eyes, and brought her five fingers of her right hand together. Softly, she pressed them to her lips, then harder. She rapidly pulled her hand away, then pressed her fingers to her lips again, over and over. She was becoming angry, trying to get out the words she so desperately wanted to say. Her eyes were red, angry, and her cheeks were becoming crimson with the frustration. At the same time, she began shaking her head back and forth rapidly. The answer was obvious. If her rapist was here, Sydney would be saying "no".

Her mouth opened, and a little puff of air came out, before she clamped it closed again.

"Did you say anything, when he was hurting you?"

Sydney was crying again then, and stood up so the was a little higher than eye level with Massie. Softly, she pressed her palm to Massie's mouth. Massie stayed still, breathing evenly through her nose. Her eyes were worried, shocked, even, that she was getitng this sort of response. The anger and resentment Sydney felt was rolling off of her in waves.

Then Sydney leaned in and moved her lips against Massie's ear. Despite her moving lips, her teeth were clenched hard, her eyes narrowed, anger and a sort of evil glee on her face. It was frightening and eerie, because anyone could tell she was only imitating. No sound came out, but when Derrick leaned closer to see, he could read the same two words on Sydney's lips, over and over.

_Pretty girl._

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><p>Sydney stood like that for a solid five minutes, her hand becoming tighter on Massie's mouth, teeth clenching so hard Derrick knew she must have been getting a headache from it all. Finally he reached over and grabbed her arm, pulling her away. She turned her attention to him, yanking her arm from his grasp, punching him squarely in the chest. He gasped, not from the hit but from shock, from the rage she was finally expressing. Her eyes were wide and sorrowful.<p>

Sydney stopped when she saw them and let out one more silent sob before she collapsed onto him, arms wrapped so tightly around his neck that he was almost choking. He wrapped his own arms around her and Massie could see that he was crying, too.

She took the moment to wipe her own single tear away and collect herself. She needed to keep it together.

"Let's get her some children's tylenol, she is going to take a nap when she's done crying."

Derrick sighed loudly. "If you think I'm putting her down, you are wrong."

Massie nodded understandingly and walked to the counter, where she'd seen the medicine she'd bought yesterday. Measuring out a teaspoon, she brought the tiny plastic cup over, and Sydney didn't spare a second in sipping it down. Massie held the glass of grape soda to her lips and let her wash down the taste of the medicine. Sydney's sobs took over as soon as the ritual was complete. Derrick looked anguished.

"I have a firm one-thirty, I have to go. It's best anyway. I would take her to her room, let her cry it out until she falls asleep and then mae sure she wakes in about an hour so she can sleep tonight, okay? I'll be back the day after tomorrow. Same time." She tried to reassure him with a grin, but it wasn't real. It was the same cheeky smile she gave every single one of her clients at the end of an appointment. It was a lie. If she wanted to be honest, she'd be in tears. She'd give them a hug and admit that yeah, right now everything sucked, but it wouldn't be like this forever.

She hated herself a little for lying to Derrick with her face, but at the same time, if she touched him again, if she touched Sydney, she, too, would burst into tears.

So Massie walked away, hastily grabbing her bag and sliding on her Marc Jacobs flats, and with one final look at Derrick, cradling his daughter in the center of his living room, she opened the door and walked out.

She made it all the way to the elevator before she let herself cry.

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><p><strong>Reviews really, really help. I am truly not sure of what you guys are thinking, so please let me know. I know that this fic is much different than the original, but I think this chapter put it back on the track of the original, right?<strong>

**Review, pwease.**


	7. Flash-Bomb

**Hello, everyone! If you check my profile, or if you have recently, you'll know what the long pause in updating was. I got diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma this past winter. HL is a cancer of the immune system. Anyway, four rounds of chemotherapy and fourteen radiation treatments later, I'm in remission and showing no signs of relapse! Along with this I've been adjusting to my new life up at University! **

**I applaud everyone who is coming around to take a look at this story for the first time, and everyone coming back around after a long break in updates. It's been a strange year for me, please understand.**

**Disclaimed.**

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><p>"Well, if you could make an effort to actually appear this year, I think it would be nice. Your father wants you to come. Please, Massie, it doesn't look very good for us when our only daughter doesn't even arrive, does it? Honestly sweetheart it would be just wonderful if you could come, and bring those friends of yours. The parties have been a bit lackluster this year. Besides, it would be a delight to have you here to calm everyone's nerves about this thing at the school. You know the parents around here aren't feeling too good about Lily D. Blake, and the fact that they are top on our list of contributors doesn't paint us in a very good light."<p>

Kendra Block was rambling on while her daughter poked at a salad in a tiny café. She rolled her eyes for the millionth time, stabbing a piece of fresh spinach with more force than necessary.

"I get it, mom. I just can't guarantee that something won't come up, okay? I'm pretty busy these days. And that school needs to handle its public relations issues on its own, I can't do that for them." She stuffed a bite of strawberry into her mouth before closing her eyes and listening to her mother go on about how important it would be for her to make an appearance, and wouldn't she like to meet some of the fabulous, eligible bachelors that her mother was inviting?

"Oh, god you know I can't stand the guys you try and set me up with mom. Don't start with this bullshit."

And cue the lecture on her language. Girls who curse are not the types of girls who get picked by eligible bachelors, and are you ever going to get married, Massie?

You'd think she was some forty-year old, not a measly twenty-eight.

After approximately five-thousand 'okay's and nineteen 'I'll try and make it to the charity auction this year,'s her mother hung up, no more satisfied than when she dialed the number.

It was no secret that Massie attempted to ditch the charity auction every year. Between her father's cancer and her mother's incessant babbling about marriage and wanting grandbabies, she wasn't up to dealing with it any more.

Her father had leukemia, and was on a regimen of daily, orally taken chemotherapy pills that he would be taking until the day he decided he didn't want to fight any longer. He simply was on the chemo to keep it from getting worse, but it would never get better. That was determined pretty early.

William Block was the same cheerful guy as always, but it hurt Massie to go by the house and see him struggling with everyday chores, or turning down a game of tennis because he just wasn't up to it.

Her thoughts about this were interrupted by her phone ringing. Checking the caller ID, she didn't see a name, but recognized the number.

"Detective Granstrom?"

"Massie, I don't have much time, I just wanted to talk to you again about the press. Our press liaison is strapped for what she can say, and Superintendent Dayton is not being of any help."

"Has he agreed to speak to the press at all? Listen, Detective, I don't know what-"

"Ms. Block, that's what I need to talk to you about. The Superintendent is resigning."

Massie stood straight up at this statement. Dayton could not be resigning right now. In the middle of a crisis?

"I'll go talk to him," she said before hanging up. She dialed his number from memory, jabbing at the screen on her phone in frustration.

"Mr. Dayton, I need to ask you a few questions regarding your recent decision to resign. I'm not going to tell you how to live your life, but this is not a very good time to leave the school. We need someone to refer to, and you are the best choice. Now I know you don't want to talk to the press, but-"

"Ms. Block, my decision to retire has no effect on the current investigation."

She was fuming. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me? We're trying to hold the school together, this city is up in arms. If you don't want to come under fire for this, you have got to stay and weather the storm."

He had already hung up.

She rushed back to the office to make her noon appointment, a sweet boy who was having severe, abrupt behavior problems in school.

Before going in, she stopped by her receptionist's desk.

"Steph, I need you to look some stuff up for me? The superintendent of PS 6 is resigning. It worries me, I'd like his employment history. Every school he's worked at since he was still a principal."

Stephanie looked a little confused but shrugged nonetheless.

The rest of her day was hectic. After a few appointments with children, police and lawyers, she was finally packing up for the day. That's when Derrick called.

He talked her ear off, which she didn't mind, because the news he was delivering was overwhelmingly positive. Sydney had uttered a sound today, something that was a first since her accident. Not to mention, the sound she had uttered was a _laugh._

"That's amazing," she murmured, a smile gracing her lips. Hearing Derrick's voice, and his joyful optimism, was the perfect ending to this long day. It seemed lately that hearing his voice, whether it was delivering good news or bad, made her day.

_Stop it_, she thought. So not cool. Not the time to be fantasizing about him. He was amazing, sure, and was once her best friend, and he was a great father, but. . .

_Stop it._

Walking out to the lobby of her practice, she stopped at the front desk. Stephanie had left at five o'clock sharp, leaving a neat stack of papers on the desk.

Massie had almost forgotten. The history of Mr. Dayton.

It was quite the interesting history, too. Bouncing from school to school. He did a few stints all the way in California before moving down towards Arizona and Texas. Then a big move up north. Three schools across the Pacific Northwest, then the Midwest. One school in Utah. The Dakotas, Minnesota, then back south. Schools in Nebraska, Oklahoma, another one in Texas. A mere month in Louisiana. Then a long journey up the coast, the Carolinas, Pennsylvania, then landing in New York, where he lasted a year before scandal erupted.

What kind of Superintendent traveled like this? They had histories of staying at one school for a great many years. Their first years were typically marked with bouncing around to schools who desperately needed someone for the position, before eventually landing in a school where they'd spend the rest of their working years.

Now he was retiring to Florida, the capital of elderly retirees in the United States. He didn't seem too fond of the south when it came to job prospects, but south Florida didn't fit the same profile as the rest of the Deep South.

Massie collected the papers and left for home, intent on opening a bottle of wine and doing some research of her own.

Tomorrow she'd be seeing Sydney alone, without Derrick, in her office. He agreed to see what she'd say without him around, if only he was allowed to view the tapes after.

The next morning started roughly. Massie had managed to polish off half the bottle of wine before realizing that she'd need to be up bright and early the next day. She'd spent her drinking time on the computer looking up the schools that Dayton had once worked at.

The Pacific Northwest hadn't turned up much. There was a string of allegations that came up in the area down in California and Arizona. Faculty members had been questioned, one first grade teacher even fired without any charges brought up against him. Dayton left right before the firing occurred, and the pictures of the school, one year before and one year after the incident, showed significant improvements in the playground equipment and libraries.

This was . . . interesting.

Louisiana was a mess, before and after he was there. Probably why he left so quickly. Students were raising complaints the month before he arrived. After he left there was some outrage, but DNA evidence proved the guilt of two other teachers. The case was closed.

Including two cases that ended with the families getting settlements. Two of the five. The other three didn't get money.

She'd gone to bed after these revelations, feeling more positive than ever that something wasn't right about Mr. Dayton.

Sydney seemed relaxed when she arrived at the office that morning. Massie wasted no time in bringing out the crayons and princess coloring books. Sydney was even comfortable enough to not care when Derrick said he'd be running a few errands while she talked to Massie.

She simply hugged her father goodbye and waved cheerfully.

The smile disappeared once she sat down next to Massie. Her lips were trembling as soon as Massie started coloring.

"Sydney, what's wrong?"

The little girl shook her head, but a loud sob escaped her.

The sound was ugly and ragged, but it was a sound. A real sound, coming from her vocal cords.

Massie held back her gasp and placed a hand on Sydney's back.

"Sydney, can you make noise?"

Another loud sob escaped her, but she shook her head insistently. Massie narrowed her eyes, just barely, pursing her lips and going for another approach.

"Sydney, don't you miss talking? Talking to your Daddy, or singing? Don't you miss telling a joke?"

Sydney nodded, sobbing louder. All at once then, it stopped. She raised her head and placed a hand on her mouth, then took it down hesitantly. Massie held her breath.

Sydney leaned in, and in the lightest of whispers . . .

"I don't want my Daddy to get hurt," she whispered.

Massie pulled back abruptly, clearing her throat softly. "Sydney, nobody needs to get hurt."

Sydney shook her head, and then surprised Massie by yelling.

"You are wrong! He said – he said, he – he would hurt my daddy! He said I can't say a thing! He said _nobody_ would believe me!"

Massie reeled back in shock, her heart was thumping loudly in her chest. She could feel her pulse banging in her wrist, and flexed her fingers once to get rid of the sensation.

"I believe you, Sydney. I will always believe you." Her voice was shaking. She needed to get herself under control. She needed to cleanse herself of her emotions. She was not the professional she had grown to be by showing such a clear display of emotion. Children did not confide in her if she was crying.

Sydney looked up, and shrugged. "He said he made a mistake, and he was sorry. He said he had never done it before, and he would never do it again."

That didn't sound like Dayton, if he had really done anything else in another school. But he was not a known teller of the truth. And he had no reason to tell Sydney the truth, or a lie.

But whoever had hurt Sydney, they had a reason to threaten her. If they wanted her to keep quiet. She had taken him literally, whoever it was. He had told her not to say a thing, and he hadn't specified what exactly she couldn't talk about. She had decided to simply never talk at all.

It was interesting, though. He'd simultaneously threatened her father and apologized? He was going for the best of both worlds. Offenders either looked to center in on a child's urge to forgive, or a child's fear. Whoever hurt Sydney had done both.

Sydney was crying again, but silently. Massie ran her hand through the girl's hair.

"Can you talk to me a bit more, Sydney?"

All she did was shake her head quickly and cover her ears.

It was time to get pictures, and it was time to make Sydney point out a face.

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><p><strong>Reviews are greatly appreciated! Seriously, I'm going for a different angle now and would love some feedback on the storyline.<strong>


	8. Unblinking Eye

**Hello Everyone! Here's the next chapter! Your well wishes and congrats on my health were appreciated, you are all so wonderful.**

**Your reviews:**

**polished swirls: **Thank you! Yeah, it was a rough year for me, but I'm so happy to be writing again too!  
><strong>clearflight: <strong>Thank you! Haha I hope I updated quick enough, college is keeping me busy! Thanks for the compliment, I really do try when I write and it nice to get such wonderful feedback.  
><strong>fi13ns: <strong>Yes, no signs of relapse! That was SUCH a relief for me. Ah, and I'm afraid making you feel bad for Sydney was my goal, I hope it doesn't sting too much! I hope I updated quick enough for you, college has me so busy!  
><strong>sarah: <strong>Thank you! Honestly, there was so much support for me, there's no way I wouldn't have beat cancer. Also thanks for thinking this story is amazing, I like to hear that!  
><strong>through amber eyes: <strong>I am happy to read that you like this story. It IS very different, and posting it was really quite a risk. Yes, Sydney's story is a tough one to read and even worse to write. It sucks to write this and know that it happens everywhere, every day:( Anyway, thank you for the wonderful comments.  
><strong>Luv2Liv Liv2Luv: <strong>I like hearing this is an improvement over the first version. I was fourteen, I like to think that I've improved;) Also, yes I try to keep the SP&G all in order, nothing pisses me off more than when a writer doesn't pay attention to that. I try to keep Massie as Massie, just maybe a more grown-up version. I think she would be a driven individual as an adult. Also, thanks for liking the pace! I didn't start this with a definite plan put in place, but I like to hear that it's going in the right direction! Thanks again for the wonderful reviews!  
><strong>dee3: <strong>Thank you! It's been an interesting year for sure, such a relief to be healthy. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.

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><p>Massie ran a hand through her hair, holding back the exasperated sigh that was fighting its way through her throat. She was exhausted and baffled.<p>

After looking through the history of the soon to be retired Superintendent Mr. Dayton, she was sure that he had something to do with the scandal at the elementary school. He hadn't hidden it very well that he left whenever scandal erupted. He refused to talk much to the press and hadn't lasted too long on the phone with Massie when she tried to ask him about his sudden retirement.

She didn't like the look of him, to be sure. Add on the fact that he was at the school that day, and probably knew very well about the failure of the cameras, and she had a real reason to suspect him.

But Sydney was shaking her tiny head, completely positive that none of the faces Massie was presenting were her attacker. Massie had put together a portfolio of the male faculty members, hoping she'd point out Dayton when she saw him.

"Sydney, I know you're scared, but if one of these men is responsible for hurting you, we need to know. We don't want him to hurt anyone else."

Sydney looked up helplessly, the guilt on her face. It was obvious. She didn't see her attacker in these men. Massie swallowed once and put the pictures away. Sydney wasn't lying.

Massie had shown Derrick the camera footage of the last session with Sydney. He had wanted proof that she had spoken. Unfortunately, she hadn't spoken much since. She didn't say anything except answer a few questions, and most of it was whispers between her and her father. She was no longer sparing a single word to talk about her experience.

Massie stood from the floor and smiled at Sydney and Derrick, who had joined her. "I'm going to grab some snacks, then we can chat a bit more, okay?"

Derrick nodded, smiling, while Sydney shrugged listlessly. She was by the door, about to leave when she saw Derrick lean down and whisper in Sydney's ear.

"Say it again," he murmured, his deep voice brimming with joy and anticipation.

Sydney blushed, and leaned in to her father's hug. "Daddy," she whispered. Derrick reached out and tickled her, his face in a giant grin when Sydney giggled.

Massie walked out, breathing deeply. Moments like those – that's why she did what she did.

When she returned, hands full with cookies, two bottles of water and a Capri Sun, The two were quietly coloring.

They talked a bit more about how things were going. Sydney was seeing a private tutor in their home, to keep up on schoolwork. She refused to return to the school. That was normal, of course. Massie also made a point to invite them to the charity even going on in just two short weeks.

Massie had decided to make a point of going that year. It wasn't easy to show up and make nice at her mother's parties. She'd stopped arriving to please her mother the second she turned eighteen. Watching her mother put on a show for the beneficiaries, serving drinks to up the bids and showing off her perfect family. Massie was so done with The Block Show, but her father's cancer changed everything.

She needed to make a point to see him more often. He wasn't necessarily dying, but the chemo he was on took a toll on him. He missed his only daughter. She would make up for her absences by making a nice donation and inviting all her friends.

Derrick agreed that they would try and go, seeing as Sydney hadn't gotten around to much socializing since the incident. He thought it would be good to get her out, to show her that not all adults were out to get her. To show her that crowds didn't have to mean danger.

As soon as they left, Massie took her lunch time to call up Detective Granstrom.

"Ms. Block, it's nice to talk to you." He didn't sound like he really felt that way, but she didn't care.

"Hi Detective, I was just going to ask you some questions about how the investigation was going."

He sounded surprised in his response. "Oh! Well, we haven't dug up much so far. You showed Sydney the pictures of the faculty?"

"Yes, I did. She didn't point out anyone, but I'm curious. I had my secretary look up the employment history of the Superintendent – Mr. Dayton – and it turned up some funny things."

She didn't get any response on the other end.

Nervously, Massie cleared her throat and went on.

"He has a spotty history. Lots of schools. He's been all over the United States. In Louisiana there was scandal all over the place, but get this. Two of the families of the five got money. The other three didn't. Two other teachers got arrested on DNA evidence, but I couldn't find which kids they were guilty of assaulting. What if the other two got money because they didn't get their proof?"

Detective Granstrom cleared his throat loudly, dismissing whatever else she had to say.

"Ms. Block, I understand that his history is interesting. We checked it out at the station. Unfortunately, nothing will stick right now. I need you to understand who you're dealing with."

Massie sat back in her chair, bewildered. "Who I'm dealing with?"

"Mr. Dayton has made a lot of fiscal donations to the schools he's worked at. It's what he's known for. And before you go on to say those are settlements for families, I need you to hear me right now. He's a big name in this city, especially with cops. He has two brothers serving high up for New York City's finest. And not just cops, Ms. Block. Hero cops. Big names. His younger brother is one of the youngest detectives to ever make lieutenant. They come from old money, and lots of it has gone to helping out New York with its forensics department."

Massie was already breathing hard. Damn, why did this guy have to be important?

"He's not a name you mess with. If we actually mentioned these allegations to him or his lawyers, and they didn't stick, then we'd be looking at a serious shit storm. You can't just do that. Besides, his brother could possibly put a stop to it if we decided to pursue something."

Massie pursed her lips. "So you're saying he's a dead end? But Detective, doesn't this smell a little, I don't know, fishy?"

The detective on the other end scoffed. "It doesn't matter. Listen, Ms. Block, with all due respect, sometimes things do smell a little, well, fishy. And sometimes it turns out to be a weasely little tuna. Other times, it's because you're smelling a shark."

Massie couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was this a threat? She really wasn't going to get any help from the department?

But maybe she really was reaching. Sydney hadn't identified any of the men. Maybe Mr. Dayton was innocent. But she wasn't about to give up. Maybe Dayton wasn't guilty, but it made a lot of sense for a faculty member to be the one responsible.

"Could you at least get a DNA sample from all the male faculty members?"

"We're already working on it. The judge agreed, we have forensics down there right now getting samples."

Massie smiled brightly. That was at least some good news. "Thank you, Detective. Please update me on anything else you find, okay?"

"Sure thing, Massie, sure thing."

Something was nagging at her. Something was pulling at her.

She saw three other kids before she was done for the day, and then she went home and went on her computer.

Mr. Dayton had given lots of money away in his lifetime. The schools he worked at, the communities he lived in, and especially the police department in New York.

She dug until her fingers were sore, but didn't find much else. He had three daughters, all women who had left home and pursued Ivy League educations. One was living in Boston, one was in Europe and the other was somewhere down south. She had a very well-known, high-society southern wedding that made the news. Some oil tycoon.

They weren't very old. The oldest one, the married one, had to be about 26. Then they were all spread apart by two years. 26, 24 and 22. Dayton was 58.

She was about to open a bottle of wine when her phone rang.

"Massie, it's Derrick. I just, um, wanted to say hi."

She tried to hold back the smile that bloomed across her face. "Well, hi. How are you this evening?"

She heard shuffling on the other end. "Oh, I was bored, I just got Sydney to bed, she was out like a light."

Massie wasn't so sure where this was going. "That's good, she's sleeping well?"

"Yes, yes she is." He chuckled. "I guess that's not all I called about. I was wondering if you wanted to stop by. We live pretty close, I was just thinking about having a drink. I have a nice white-"

"Sure!"

He sounded surprised. "Perfect! Come over then."

"Yeah, I will. Bye, Derrick. See you soon."

She hung up with that same big smile in place.

She was nervous as all hell when she knocked on the door of his apartment. The place was really nice, with a charming doorman and a very fancy elevator. It was like her place, but this time she was noticing new things. The first time she had been here, there were in full crisis mode. Things had died down a little, and Sydney was showing signs that she'd make a full recovery.

This time was different.

Derrick opened the door, still wearing his work clothes. His black dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was holding the bottle of wine and the opener.

Massie stepped in. "Wow, nice music." It was something soft and instrumental. Derrick chuckled.

"It's what I play after dinner to get Sydney to wind down," he explained. "Bedtime is such a challenge. Always has been."

Massie raised her eyebrows. "Doesn't want to do it?"

They were in the living room now, she was settling on the couch while he poured the wine. "She just feels like she's missing out or something."

Massie nodded. "I can relate."

They sat in silence for a little while the music playing softly in the background. Massie finished her first glass pretty fast, as did Derrick.

"Hey, I'm gonna go to the bathroom really quick. Why don't you find something on the iPod to play?"

She made her way over to the sound system by the TV, her fingers quickly searching out the playlists he had on there.

Hmm, so it was currently playing "Sydney's Sleep Tunes". There was also "Workout" and, to her delight, "Wedding favorites".

Derrick came out to her swaying slightly to "Single Ladies".

"Oh, God, this playlist?"

Massie burst out laughing, then added in a shake of her hips to make him smile, too.

They chatted more, about the upcoming charity event and why Massie was dreading it. Derrick said he was excited, as he hadn't seen any of the guys since everything happened. It had been years since he had seen Todd at all, and they were pretty good friends.

Massie laughed. "Oh, Todd. Just as dapper as ever. Who would have guessed? He's currently trying to charm the socks off her personal assistant. Claire is mortified."

It didn't take long for the one glass to mean three.

The playlist went on, making Massie feel nostalgic. Finally, "Like a G6" came on. Massie jumped up, excited.

"This is my jam!" she squealed, and proceeded to shake her hips, and put her arms above her head.

Derrick was laughing his drunken ass off. "I think you said the same thing at our wedding when this song came on."

Massie came back over to get another sip of wine, then flopped back down on the couch dramatically. "I probably did."

She leaned back, brushing her hair out of her face. "Wow, the wedding. That was forever ago."

Derrick nodded in agreement. "Sure was. God, I was so fucking nervous."

She slapped his arm. "No you weren't, you did great."

He smiled. "Don't you remember that pep talk you gave me? That's how I made it through the ceremony without fainting. Megan took one look at my face and said, 'I'll have to repay Massie for getting you down the aisle.'".

Massie laughed loudly. "Megan, oh she was so awesome. I miss her."

The laughter died down, leaving only music. Derrick smiled. "She really was awesome."

Massie pursed her lips. "Listen, Derrick, I know I never said it before and I'm sorry, but I really think I should apologize. About the funeral. I should have been there."

He turned to her, already shaking his head. "Don't apologize, Massie."

She cut him off. "No, I should have been there. I wasn't ready to be there, and I was not ready to see you like that, but it couldn't have been any easier for you. It was really shitty of me."

He placed a hand on her knee. "Well, you're already forgiven. Honestly, we hadn't talked in a while anyway."

She let out a soft scoff. "I know. All this remembering your wedding, it reminds me that your wedding was probably one of the last times we really talked, before I left."

While talking, Derrick had opened the second bottle of wine. They were drinking fast, and it was starting to show.

"Why did you run away? From me? You had to fly in from Boston to even attend the wedding. Why did you leave?"

She swallowed thickly, taking down a gulp of wine while she sorted through her thoughts. Before she could answer, he was talking again.

"I've loved four women in my life, Massie Block, and you are one of them."

Her breath caught in her throat, but she pushed that away with a laugh. "And the other three?"

He smiled, holding up his hands, ticking off as he went. "Easy. My mom, my sister, and Megan."

Massie rolled her eyes. "I don't compare to any of those loves, Derrick. I'm just a friend."

He sat up, shaking his head. "How would you know? You left. You ran away. How could you have known that I was in love with you? If I hadn't found Megan, I would have followed you to Boston."

She was in shock. "I didn't run away from you! I ran away from that life. I wasn't someone I wanted to be, Derrick. I graduated high school and realized I was a shallow, bratty little girl. I was my mother's creation. If I hadn't left, I wouldn't be who I was today."

He grinned. "I always saw who you could be, Massie. I understand why you wanted to leave so badly, but I don't think you _had_ to leave to grow up."

She shrugged. "No use dwelling on it now. I did leave, and I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "You don't have to be sorry. Like I said, I found Megan. I got to spend three years with her. More than I deserved, really."

Massie looked at him, deep into his brown eyes. "Do you miss her?"

Derrick smiled. "Yes, I do. Every day. But I don't think it's the same as before."

Massie was confused. "How so?"

"When I lost Megan, I believed for a while that I was ruined for any woman. But I'm a bit freer now. She doesn't have this hold over me anymore, you know?"

Now she understood. It made Massie happy to hear that her friend was able to actually move on. "That's good that you aren't ruined for any woman, because we'd be losing one of the good ones."

He laughed, that same open, real laugh that he had always had. "I'm glad you feel that way."

It takes her one full second to hear and understand what he's saying, on account of being drunk and all, and another full second to comprehend his lips on hers.

When she does realize that he's _here,_ he's on the couch with _her_ and he's _kissing_ her, she responds.

It feels so natural, so normal, so incredibly _right_. His lips, pulling against her bottom one. His tongue, her tongue, sliding along each other with an ease and grace that she could never had predicted. This is what kissing is supposed to be like.

It doesn't take long for her to realize what the fuck is wrong with this, though.

She pulls back forcefully, and his eyes open in alarm. It seems that realization has not fully dawned on him, yet.

When he does, he lets a Cheshire-cat grin spread across his face.

She just shakes her head. "I can't – we can't – do this, Derrick. We are involved in other ways. There's an_ investigation_ going on. I shouldn't have – oh, God."

He stands as she does, gripped her arm. "Don't be like that, Mass. Don't run away again. Hear me out. Was that not perfect?"

She yanks her arm out of his grasp and picks up her purse, then walks sternly over to the door. He follows, quickly.

"There's no way you're driving home right now."

She leans in and shakes her head. "Of course. I'm calling a cab. I'll be back to grab my car in the morning."

And then she ran away. Again.


End file.
